The Court of King Steilsson
by vaetta
Summary: When Lukas went out grocery shopping that morning, he hadn't expected to return to find his house trashed and his boyfriend dressed as a viking. AKA: the one with little!Iceland, a ridiculous game of dress-up, and tickle wars. Be prepared for an overload of fluff.


"You shall pay for your crimes, filthy trespasser!"

Lukas raised an eyebrow, unamused. "What the _fuck_, Mathias."

When Lukas went out grocery shopping that morning, he hadn't expected to return to find his house trashed and his boyfriend dressed as a viking.

The man in question was sporting a brown cloak and a horned helmet, waving a foam axe in his hand. "There is no Mathias here. I am Bearskin Firebeard, soldier of the dark, protector of the light, and guardian of the great court of Steilsson."

"Well, fartbeard, if you don't get your butt out here to help me carry the shopping, the only thing you'll have to guard is your precious triple-sized beer mug."

Mathias broke character for a second, eyes widening in horror. "You wouldn't."

"I think," bit Lukas, "you'll find that I would. Where's Emil?"

Face morphing back into his 'viking' persona, Mathias rest his fist over his chest. "If, by Emil, you are referring to my lord and liege, King Steilsson, he is in the throne room. I shall take you there now, so that he may serve your judgement."

"By all means, lead the way, Viking,"

"That's _sir_ Viking, to you."

Lukas snorted in reply.

After he dumped the grocery bags on the counter, Mathias led him through the house, over discarded toys and between rooms, until they reached the entrance of Emil's playroom. Halting outside the drawn curtain, Mathias called: "I have brought you the intruder, my king."

From inside, a small voice rang out, "Bring him forth, Sir Mathias."

By this point, Lukas was completely lost. What was this, some extravagant game of dress up?

He had little time to ponder his bemusement as his boyfriend stepped forwards and ripped open the curtains, pushing him inside by his shoulders. He opened his mouth to complain, but was stunned to silence at the sight before him.

In the centre of the room, perched upon a garish throne made entirely from lego, was his younger brother. The six year old was adorned in a velvet cloak, draping over the throne and pooling on the floor. Upon his head sat a crown which was clearly several sizes too large, the front falling over his eyes. His small feet dangled several feet from the ground, and his stuffed puffin toy was nestled on his shoulder.

Lukas's first instinct was to laugh and coo at the adorable sight, but his brother's deadly serious expression prompted him to bite his lip and play along.

After thoroughly inspecting the trespasser, Emil opened his mouth to speak. "You must think yourself deific, coming here without consent."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Everyone north of the great sea knows of my kingdom, and what happens to those who dare defy me."

Lukas bared his chest, lifting his chin to lock eyes with the 'ruler'. "By all means, your majesty, enlighten me."

Emil nodded his head towards Mathias. "Show him, warrior."

Mathias bowed in compliance. "As you wish." Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he whipped out Lukas's prized box of butter-pecan biscuits. With a smirk, he poured several onto his hand, and promptly stuffed them in his mouth.

"Stop! Those are mine!" Lukas jumped up, his usually expressionless face morphed in panic. _No-one_ messed with his butter-pecan biscuits.

"I'm afraid this is the price you pay for disobeying the rules of the land." Emil cut in, face austere.

"Please! I'll do anything, just don't touch my biscuits!"

Emil paused, thoughtful. "Anything, you say?"

"Yes, I swear," Lukas begged, glaring at Mathias from the corner of his eye.

"Hmm," mused Emil. "Allow me to confer with Mr. Puffin." With a haughty toss of the head, Emil turned to face his stuffed toy. He whispered to it in hushed Icelandic, pausing every now and then as if to listen to its response. Finally, Emil turned back to his brother, small face determined.

"We have reached a decision."

"Which is?"

Little Emil folded his arms over his chest. "In exchange for the preservation of your biscuits, I demand 3 party bags of Djúpur licorice. Do we have ourselves a deal?"

Lukas frowned, incredulous. "Emil, that's like 20 pounds of candy. You can't seriously-"

"_Do we have a deal?_" Emil interrupted, intransigent.

Under any other circumstances, Lukas would have given his brother a hard scolding for that kind of backtalk. But, against his better judgement, Lukas couldn't bring himself to chasten the boy on behalf of how utterly adorable he looked in that little cloak and the oversized crown. With an eye roll and an inward sigh, Lukas relented.

"Fine, fine, you can have your licorice."

For the first time that afternoon, Emil broke character, his face splitting into a beam of triumph. Lukas got the feeling that he hadn't really expected to have his demands entertained.

"But first, your majesty, I am obliged to inform you of your fatal flaw."

Emil's grin faltered, and he peered down at his brother suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

"I have a secret weapon, one that is impervious to any of your tricks."

"And that is?"

Lukas glanced up with a smirk, gaze trained on his brother. "That I'm the tickle monster!"

Before Emil had a chance to respond, Lukas dived forwards and scooped the small boy in his arms, flopping him in a pile of pillows. Without pause, he began scratching his fingers at Emil's sides. The young boy panted hysterically, biting his lip in an effort not to laugh.

Almost immediately, Mathias came to join in on the fun, holding down his arms and legs to give Lukas full tickling access.

Emil glowered at him in betrayal. "You can't do this!" he wheezed. "You are my loyal s-servant-" He broke off, still desperately trying to maintain his stoicism.

"C'mon Icey, we all know that Lukas is my _real _boss here." Mathias grinned, before releasing his ankle to tickle him right in-between his neck and his shoulder.

At the unexpected attack, Emil's resolve finally broke, and he exploded in high-pitched peels of laughter.

"Stah-hop, I need to b-breathe!" he gasped, little tears escaping his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

Lukas and Mathias, the cruel guardians they were, did not heed his request, instead tickling him even more fiercely. By this point, Mathias was giggling almost as much as Emil, and Lukas couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at his own lips.

After a few minutes of furious tickling, the laughter began to abate, and the three flopped side-by-side on the pillow pile, exhausted. Mathias sought out Lukas's hand, twining their fingers together and offering him a giddy smile.

Between them, Emil's breaths began to slow, and after a little while he fell into a soft doze. His thumb was hooked in his small mouth, toy puffin tucked to his stomach.

Come to think of it, Lukas was starting to feel a little drowsy himself. Looking over, he saw that Mathias had the same idea, and was drifting to sleep where he lay. Lukas let his own eyes flutter closed, comforted by the warm presence of the two boys he called 'family'.

Almost as soon as he did so, he was roused by a sleepy voice. "Bróðir?"

Lukas turned to see Emil peering up at him, half lidded. "Yes, Emil?"

"I still get my licorice after this, right?"

"…I'll think about it."

Satisfied, the little boy adjusted his position and went back to sleep, curled up between his guardians.

With a soft smile, Lukas gazed over his two boys. Mathias was still dressed in his viking attire, cloak splayed out around him and hair spiking in every direction. He slept with his mouth open, drooling slightly and snoring obnoxiously. The Dane was just as much a child as Emil, if not more.

With a roll of his eyes and a fond huff, Lukas tightened his grip on his hand and closed his eyes. Together, the mismatched trio slept, smiles on their faces and a warm sensation blooming in their chests.

* * *

Oh my gosh, this is the absolute fluffiest thing I have ever written.

A couple notes:

'Bróðir' is Icelandic for 'brother'

'Djúpur' is an Icelandic type of licorice - it comes in bags full of little licorice balls coated in chocolate! I've never tried them, but they sound really good.

Please review, let me know if it was alright!

Come pester me on tumblr, I'm denmark-is-my-dork.


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